O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, Fly,
by Ananimous
Summary: My name is Fleance, here I am, a pebble that tumbles along the bottom of a stream, buffeted by both the waters of life and other men. This is my tale, from the beginning of the play written by Shakespeare to it's bloody end.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Macbeth.

Act 1: Scene 1

Lightning flashed illuminating the dark hills that surrounded me. A chilling wind blew constantly and rattled the blanket of mist. I drew my thin cloak closer to my frigid body in a vain attempt to retain any amount of body heat. Crows danced on the branches of scattered trees that loomed high over my head.

"When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?" a shrill voice asked.

"When the hurlyburly's done, when the battle's lost and won." The distinctly feminine voice called from atop a different hill.

"That will be ere the set of sun." A third called faintly from the farthest and highest piece of land.

"Where the place?" asked the first.

"Upon the heath." replied the second, her voice had a dreamy quality.

"There to meet with Macbeth." my heart nearly stopped, my father was in the currently company of Macbeth and the thought that he would meet with those who bared these horrible voices unbearable. Something slithers across my calf, my gaze jumped downward but the mist obscured my view. A cat's cry erupted out of the mist by my foot.

"I come, Graymalkin!" Cried the first terrible voice.

"Paddock calls," called the dreamy voice.

"Anon!" said the third, her tone commanding.

"Fair is foul, and foul is fair: Hover through the fog and filthy air." A gray cat leaped through the mist, after the voices had joined to say that ominous conclusion to their meeting, and vanished. The sudden silence was deafening. I took three steps before the mist dissipated, "Hello?" my voice broke the spell. In a noisy black flurry all of the crows on the trees dove towards me. Their angry screams were accented by a torrent of claws. My arms flew to shield my face, I took off running, but slipped on the growing puddle of my own blood in the first steps.

I lay in the dirt and waited for the birds to stop their vicious attack or for my body to give up. I was crying but I didn't have the energy to fight the pain. The crows gave one final unanimous cry and took to the air. I lay, and waited for my limbs to stop shaking. I looked up from the blood soaked mud and gasped. In front of my stood a figure made of mist. The shape changed as the wind tried to erase the form. A dress became visible over the specter's legs.

"Mom?" I asked.

I sat up on the straw bed, my hand over my mouth stifling a scream. I can't remember have a nightmare as terrible as that. Lightning flashed outside the tavern window, just like it had in the dream. The storm clouds made it impossible to tell what time it was, it could have been either noon or midnight.

My body was sticky with sweat and my mouth was impossibly dry. Silent tears dribbled down my chin and throat. I turned sideways and drew my knees to my chest. The fear that held my heart captive refused to let go, small whimpers left my mouth. "Hurry home, father, I'm scared." It was at times like these that I was reminded that despite being mature, I was still a child. Ever since Mother had died and Father left to fight, I battled feeling abandoned. But now I wish Father could have stayed, he would know how to make the dreams leave me alone.

A/N: This started out as an assignment for school, but it was so much fun that I took it and continued it. Anyway, my concussion is finally gone and I guess I was very lucky that it did not last any longer then it did. So I'm back now and here is every scene from Macbeth from Fleance's POV.

-Ananimous


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Although I love Shakespeare, I would not want the challenge of writing so many brilliant plays.

Act I: Scene 2

Elation courses through my veins. Father lives! I am completely beside myself with joy. While some rejoice in our victory and other struggle to save a wounded Captain's life, I am smiling. Soon I will see his scruffy chin, hear his deep jubilant voice again. It has been to long.

Donalbain has taken to ruffling my hair and teasing me. "Is father going to help you with your bad dreams?" He sneers from the corner of his mouth.

"You had one last night too," I point out, trying my hardest to look forward and ignore the younger prince.

"Did I cry about it?" he asks. His jams at my honor has gotten worse and worse as time has gone on. I keep trying to be strong, why is that so hard?

A/N: I know this was a short chapter, but there really wasn't much text to go on. Anyway it's a good transitional chapter. Umm... It may take me a while to update again. I contracted tendonitis in my wrist and typing is not very fun.

A special thank you to Eaten Alive By Boredom, your review made me smile and I'll strive to keep it interesting.

Till next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: see previous chapters

A/N: The rest of Act 1's entries are short so I've complied them into one chapter.

Scene 3

I had another dream about the witches last night. They told the Thane Macbeth that he would be king and that my father's children would be kings. Macbeth seemed to believe them, but it was just a dream. Right? I'll have to ask father about the meanings of my strange dreams when we see each other next. The King's company, myself included, will be riding to meet Macbeth and father soon.

My horsemanship has improved greatly, but I still don't look forward to the long ride. Still, I understand what father described as 'the call of adventure.' Oh! I have to go now. We are preparing to go and Donalbain needs help with his horse.

Scene 4

This is the absolute _worst_! My hands are waterlogged and chapped. It's _all_ Donalbain's fault, yet I am the only one being punished. Now the stacks of dished that need to be washed and dried is keeping me from reuniting with father and hearing Macbeth's war stories. This is so unfair. All of the other servants rushed out the moment King's reappearance was announced, and the stacks only grow as my task wears on.

"What are you doing here? Didn't you miss me?" the sudden voice startled me. I turned and saw father sitting on a chair, eating an apple. He regarded me with his weary eyes.

"I did...but" I began, his nod cut me off mid explanation.

"Say no more. I have heard what you have done, and I am disappointed with you. I did _not _raise you to be so violent."

"I was defending you honor!" I blurted, then blushed realizing what I had just done. Father looked startled, then he picked up a rag and dried plates next to me in silence.

Scene 5

The work was finished in half the time that I had expected. The most father and I talked about our months apart was a short conversation about the fight.

"Did you beat him?" he asked.

"Soundly." Father nodded in a proud manner.

While we rode to Macbeth's castle, Iverness, he pointed out wildlife. I was quizzed on my knowledge of edible plants and animal husbandry. Eventually he stopped asking questions and we rode in companionable silence. He looked at me thoughtfully, "your mother would be proud."

"Why do you say?"

"You've grown so much."

Scene 6

I was late! The meal started no less then five minutes ago and I was still running through the corridors. I found myself once again thanking God for my photographic memory. The King's court passed the Great Hall on our tour of Iverness, that and the few, short times father and I have been guests here have solidified the path in my mind.

My feet slowed as I rounded the last corner and walked into the hall and stood behind father. As a final punishment, I would serve him and the princes. Donalbain was entirely too smug when I set my plate in front of him, Malcolm kicked him under the table and smiled at me kindly.

Scene 7

We stayed at dinner much longer then any of the other guests. When the hall was empty, father spoke, "has your sentence been served?"

"I don't know" I admonished, "it depends on Don..."

"Hold your tongue and your temper! Anger is not an emotion that I will have linked to your lineage!" he snapped. I shuffled my foot. "Allow his highness the younger, to mend his bruised pride."

I nodded happily at his complement, "yes father."

"Then this is the last we will speak of this."

"Yes father."

"Well then, let's retire," I followed him out of the hall and back down the corridor.

A/N 2: My teacher collected the Journals and I only, just got mine back! When there is more action that relates to Fleance, I promise that the length of the entries will increase.

My thanks to James Birdsong, I'm glad you liked the first two chapters. Hopefully you will like the third


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